


Saving People Money So They Can Live Better Lives

by butyoumight



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-07
Updated: 2007-11-07
Packaged: 2017-10-16 20:06:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/168869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butyoumight/pseuds/butyoumight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>We... invented the Wal-Mart Super Center in 1987. The idea was simple: build a store for one-stop shopping where bulk purchases could keep prices incredibly low. We didn't know what we were doing. In just four years, it was out of control.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Saving People Money So They Can Live Better Lives

**Author's Note:**

> For the [B-movie Madness](http://community.livejournal.com/mychemicaltest/79057.html#cutid1) challenge at [mychemicaltest](http://community.livejournal.com/mychemicaltest/).

"Attention customers."

Frank looked up from the CD he was holding. The radio had been playing a Christmas song despite the fact that it was two days after his birthday. The interruption was appreciated.

"The time is now twelve o'clock, and your friendly neighborhood Wal-Mart is now closed."

Ray took a step away from the X-Box 360 controller. He turned to look over racks of CDs, caught Frank's eye where the boy was standing on his tiptoes to see over the shelves that were almost higher than he was tall. They met in the main thoroughfare, and headed for the front of the store. Ray didn't think to ask if Frank had noticed the 'open twenty-four hours' sign on the door.

"Please gather your final purchases and make your way to the registers,"

Gerard struggled with an arm-full of acrylic tubes and paint markers and a few different sketchbooks, trying not to drop anything as he headed for the registers. He got momentarily distracted by a shelf-end display of paintbrushes, and managed to gather three with his mouth before setting his gaze forward so as not to get distracted again.

"Where our friendly cashiers would be more than happy to help you on your way."

Mikey frowned at the wall-size display of coffee beans. He never could pick; there were about nine thousand too many flavors. Some of them he didn't want, some of them made him sick. He wasn't sure, but he needed to pick something to take a half-pound of, and he needed to pick a lot quicker than he was.

"Your friendly neighborhood Wal-Mart will probably re-open tomorrow morning at six am."

Bob looked up from comparing the unit price of two kinds of pasta. Always sensible, he was actually shopping for food. He'd caught the 'probably' and was confused by it. He headed back into the main aisle, pausing to smack Mikey gently about the head and grab a can of cheap coffee. Mikey tagged along behind the drummer, whining all the way that he wanted good coffee. Bob pointedly ignored him, listening to the rest of the announcement.

"Thank you for shopping at your friendly neighborhood Wal-Mart."

They convened at the front of the store, Gerard having tossed his supplies down on the belt in front of the thirteenth register, noting that he needed cigarettes.

The announcement continued in the same monotone and thoroughly bored tone of voice. "Now kindly get the fuck out."

Gerard turned around, eyes wide. "What?"

"What was that?" Frank had his head tilted back, staring at the speaker right above them.

"Guys, I don't see any cashiers." Mikey was holding the can of coffee Bob had chosen, reading it with the practiced eye of a professional, his voice nonchalant, as if he were actually looking. The other four looked around in lieu of Mikey's refusal to bother, and found him strangely correct. The store felt empty besides them. Frank noticed that the music hadn't come back on after the end of the announcement, but there was quiet feedback as if the phone had been left dangling at the end of its cord.

"Maybe we should just go." Bob said quietly. Ever the reasonable one. They all considered in tandem before deciding that this was a good idea. They tossed everything into Bob's cart and headed for the doors.

"I thought this was a twenty-four hour Wal-Mart." Ray's voice was soft, thoughtful. They stepped under a loud fan blowing hot air down on them. In the store's foyer, it was frigid. Gerard walked first, intent on driving until they found another Wal-Mart that was still open, because he was working on a project and had run out of his favored shade of blood red, which had necessitated the stop in the first place.

He walked right into the glass door, stumbling backwards into Frank. It took all of Ray's strength to catch them both to save them from hitting the floor.

"What the fuck?" Gerard growled, stomping forward and kicking at the door, trying to pry it open. It was locked.

"Well, I'm freaked out." Mikey rubbed at his hair, making it stand up awkwardly. The feedback over the intercom became more pronounced, Frank could feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing up.

"Me too." He whispered.

Bob spoke up with a loud, calming voice. "Guys, there're phones everywhere in a Wal-Mart."

They moved off as a cohesive unit, checking the customer service area, and each register. None of the phones responded at all.

"We have to find the one that they used to make the announcement." Bob headed back through the store to the electronics department. The other four followed in a straight line, Ray bringing up the rear. They trusted Bob, and while Frank and Ray both hesitated before moving through the swinging doors marked 'Associates Only Beyond This Point', all five of them went into the employee area. The store was still silent.

As Bob ducked into a room marked 'Ad Office', Mikey went wandering away. Ten minutes later, Bob returned, lips pursed, and Mikey was nowhere to be found.

"We should split up to find Mikey, I think. Then probably break the front door to get out. I don't like this." He gestured back towards the office. "There's walkie-talkies in there. Gee, you come with me. Ray, Frank, you guys go that way."

They split up, and Frank insinuated his hand into Ray's back pocket, just to ensure that the guitarist stayed nearby.

They wandered through the back room, interspersing their hopeful calls of Mikey's name (and assorted, mostly rude terms of endearment) with jibes at each other. Frank paused to stare at everything they passed, particularly a large, menacing machine. He stepped up to it.

"Frank, leave it alone. We're supposed to be finding Mikey."

Frank ignored him, peering into the large green machine.

"Ray, do you copy?"

Ray pulled the walkie-talkie from his belt, rolling his eyes at Gerard's wanna-be-suave military talk. "I copy, Gerard. What's going on?"

Gerard's voice took on a tone of nerves. "We haven't found Mikey, but we found his hoodie hanging outside a freezer."

"It's just filled with cardboard. Is it, like, a recycling machine?"

Ray gestured rapidly at Frank to shut up. "Gerard?"

"Uh. Bob went into the freezer." Gerard's voice sounded panicked, Ray recognized the sound of tears. "And the door closed. I can't get it open. Ray, you have to find me. Please. I can't get Bob out of the freezer."

Ray turned around to snag Frank by the back of his belt as per usual, just in time to notice something off about the machine Frank had climbed the front of, was leaning into.

"Frank!" The red gate over the front of the machine came slamming down. It slid back up when Frank screamed in pain. He scrambled, trying to pull back. Against all odds, he fell into the machine, and the gate slammed shut again. Ray ran to the machine, slamming the walkie-talkie against the red gate as the machine activated itself, a large pneumatic-powered slab of steel lowering down to trap Frank inside. "Oh my god, Frank!"

Frank was silent. The walkie-talkie squealed. "Ray, what's going on?"

"Some machine just ate Frank! I can't hear him, what if he's dead?"

"Ray, I think the Wal-Mart is eating us."

"Gerard, where the hell are you?"

"I don't know. All I can see is a shit-ton of wine and beer, and man..."

"I'll come to find you."

Ray stole through the store. He found another of the enormous green steel shelves, this one filled with boxes marked by beer and wine logos. He stopped in total fear. Gerard's belt, bat-shaped buckle obvious, was hanging from the highest shelf, probably fifteen feet straight in the air.

"Gerard?" He turned, noticed Mikey's hoodie hanging on a hook beside a diamond-plated door. "Mikey? Bob? Frank?"

He stumbled back through the back room, meandered between more of the enormous shelves, these hung with clothing. He heard a whir. His face went white with terror; it was already damp with fearful tears. He turned in time to notice that the shelves were on tracks, closing in on him, trapping him between shirts that he recognized from his own suit-case.

=-=-=

"Welcome to Wal-Mart!"

The morning's first customer was greeted just inside the doors by a small man in a long-sleeved shirt that couldn't pretend to hide his multitude of tattoos.

She asked a scrawny boy with stand-up hair where to find the gardening section. A burly, blue-eyed man, blond and bearded, helped her find what she was looking for. A gaunt young man with lank black hair and thin fingers checked her out; and a tall man with a thick ponytail of curly brown hair walked her to her car.

When she got home, she dropped off a bag in her daughter's room. She glanced at the poster on the wall, wondering why the musicians seemed so familiar.

**Author's Note:**

> 


End file.
